Wendy talks in her sleep, as in she talks a lot about all sorts of things. It’s possible to have a full conversation with her, although it doesn’t always flow logically. Typically the conversations involve the welfare of animals… as she is the world’s biggest animal lover.
Last night she suddenly said ‘ do foxes kill things, or just eat dead things?’
I knew she was asleep, as she would definitely know the answer to her own question. I said ‘ yes, they do both ‘
She said ‘ do they kill ducks?’
I said ‘ yes, but normally the ducks are in the water, so probably not often ‘
She said ‘ oh… well do you think I should go outside and just check?’
As it was 4am, pitch black outside, and she wasn’t wearing any clothes at all, I said ‘ no darling, I think the ducks are all ok ‘
(Thankfully ) she then went back to sleep…
I’ve just been in Poundland and the Unthinkable happened.
We wanted to pay for just one item. The assistant said ‘ I’ll just find out how much this is ..’
Hang on, it’s POUNDLAND! We know how much it is, that’s the whole concept of the business!?
Anyway, she came back after 2 minutes… and GUESS WHAT!!
It was 25p.
On Wednesday I go for an X-ray of my metalwork, as I’m thinking that I’m a different shape to how I was. There seems to be a ridge where there wasn’t a ridge, down at the bottom of my back. When you can’t feel anything, you sort of feel around with your hand for lumps, as you might on a table or a seat cushion or something.
Let’s see what they find.
It gives me a kind of proud glow to see the next generation ‘ come of age ‘, as it were.
My lil brother, Stu, and his 2 sons have gone skiing to Austria. One of his boys is of slight stature, and like all 3 of them mild mannered and definitely not looking for trouble. Last night they are in a bar and a German fella has picked on young Ben for no reason. What he doesn’t realise is that ‘ the Yeti stood 3 feet away from him ‘ ( Stu’s words, not mine ) is his brother. My other nephew is no ordinary type, you see. He’s a powerlifter, and about as strong as you can imagine a human to be.
So imagine his German surprise when he found himself lifted off his feet and flying through the door, landing without his shirt.
It’s cold at night in those ski resorts – he could have done with that shirt, out there on the icy pavement, I’m sure.
Morale of the story ? If you are about to start a fight with a little chap, just take a moment to see who he’s with first.
.I’m not normally paranoid….
but I think my catheter is taking the piss.
There are unknown perks to being paralysed. You can have free prescriptions, a free ticket to shows for the person who pushes your wheelchair etc etc.
And also you can belong to the SCI ( spinal cord injury ) Owners Club group on Facebook. Perks, like I said.
There are lots of people on the group who are quite remarkable – there’s nothing like a bit ( read shitload that’s for ever ) of adversity to bring out the best in you.
There is all sorts pertaining to being disabled/ paralysed that’s discussed on the ‘ forum’. You can dip in as much as you want. I don’t dip in a whole lot, but occasionally I’m stirred to add something.
When you are paralysed, everything below your injury is buggered up essentially. That includes your genitals, your bladder and your bowels – the whole lot is affected ( either partially or totally ) Going for a pee or a poo is f’d up forever. In my case it is too. That’s why my urine comes out of a tube in my tummy, and as of 2 years ago I have a stoma, so poo comes out of a hole 10cm to the left of my tummy button. I have a colostomy bag stuck over that hole and that stops it shooting all over me and you, if you happen to be sat on my lap, or opposite me.
About 6 months after I had the operation ( a few hours in surgery and a few days in hospital ) I started to use irritagation daily. That’s consists of me letting water into the hole through a tube ( about a litre and a half ) and then waiting for it to come out again along with the 💩, which goes down a poop shoot into the loo. While this is going on I can send daft texts/ emails to people, or listen to an audiobook, or study, or whatever, but essentially that’s it. There’s nothing else to it. After the flush, that’s ( usually ) about it until the next day, or in my case about 20 hours later. The other thing about me starting to do this process is that my spasms are drastically diminished. It’s all pretty hygienic and the bits you use are new every day so it’s all fairly straightforward, at least in my opinion. That of course is because all things are relative. Prior to the stoma, it’s a very different process. You have to get your paralysed ass onto a toilet seat ( that you can’t feel or balance properly on ) and sit there until you ‘ get a result ‘ As you can’t ‘ push ‘ you can’t hurry it up, and you can’t even feel it leaving your body. You have to rely on sound and smells… You use suppositories, or water irrigation up your bum, and you have to wear rubber gloves. F me, it’s a shock when you realise that this is what you are going to have to do for the rest of your life. As you can’t tell if you are empty, you don’t know if you will shit your pants later in the day, whether in your chair, in a car, on the bus, on a plane. at work, or anywhere at all – all of which happened to me. Then you have to get home and you/ you and another person helping have to somehow clean yourself and your chair up and change your clothes.
I’m trying very hard not to sound biased about the stoma option, but the relief from the world of uncertainty and soiling was a significant thing.
Anyway, back to the point of this post. This lady had posted on the forum that she had had years of difficulty with bowel management. All sorts offered advice, from suppositories, diet, timing etc etc.
I just wrote ‘ get a colostomy- problem solved or something like that.
I’ve had a similar reaction before….. you get a barrage of no’s, and words of extreme caution before ‘ doing anything drastic ‘ ( that’ll be the simple and reversible operation then ) – all from people who spend up to 3 hours a day with their fingers up their bums, who haven’t actually had a stoma. The stoma option is unusual, it seems, hardly anyone has had it done and if you promote it you may as well be promoting paedophia for all the reaction you get. This chap called Paolo ( Italian guy ) said ‘ Oh God no ‘ to my suggestion. So here’s a fella pooh poohing ( excuse the expression ) a very good option where, let’s face it, the choice of management is fairly shit. I defended my choice and he argued ( bear in mind he hasn’t tried a stoma ). He’s a lawyer, I think, and my God, that lot can be ever so convinced of their expertise on pretty much any matter at all. It went back and forth a bit and I sensed he was getting ‘ emotional ‘ about his ( uneducated in this case ) point of view.
I wrote ‘ Paolo, why don’t you just do what your kinsmen normally do in conflict situations and just surrender without a fight? ‘ which I thought was very funny, not to mention historically accurate.
Blimey, he wrote ‘ Why don’t you go Fuck yourself, you racist bastard !’
What happened next ( other than me laughing and thinking he had been very rude to me ) was that I was banned from the SCI group…
It’s been a while since I’ve been banned from something, but I’m no stranger to it. In Cardiff University I was banned from most of the pubs I wanted to go into, from ALL of the Halls of residence, from the student union, and eventually even from the rugby club! I think I might be the only person in history to manage the latter.
The SCI Club ban is only temporary, but I’ve resigned as a member anyway. Whilst there are some amazingly brave people on there, there are far too many that spend way too much time with their fingers up their arse holes.
I went with G and saw A Star is Born at the pictures today.
It’s a lovely film, with a tragic ending. He kills himself at the end, to save her career. That’s how he’s thought it through, you see. To him it made perfect sense – everyone was better off without him being around.
I was dragged back to the night when I did that. There was a complete conviction that I was doing the right thing – well you can’t do it unless you’re sure of that, or I couldn’t have done anyway. Killing myself ( or succeeding in my case, but being revived from the death ) then becomes actually quite easy.
Chilling stuff, isn’t it?
So on the recommendation of my daughter, the Oxford invitee, I booked tickets for her and I to see a 2 part play ( total 8 hours ) of something called The Inheritance. We had to see both parts on the same day as it’s the last week it’s on. In my usual way I didn’t actually do any investigation as to what it was about, but had been told by several fellas ( who in retrospect had quite high voices ) that it was gripping/ unmissable, and I’d love it.
It became clear from the outset that the cast looked ever so devoid of women. Now I’m as gay as the next man who isn’t in any way at all gay, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the 8 hours of gay history/culture that followed. The play told the story of a group of guys ( about 14 ) who lived/didn’t live through the Epidemic- the terrible early years of AIDS, and the various consequences of this condition in the Western world, before a ‘ cure’ was discovered ( not that that cure has eradicated death in the more undeveloped nations at all, as people/ governments can’t afford the treatment, or don’t take them, believing in superstitious cures instead that don’t work )
There were pretty uninhibited portrayals of gay sex/ promiscuity throughout, which were on the ‘ full on’ side ( definitely far more graphic than would have ‘ been allowed ‘ in a heterosexual production I think, especially the effective – as in not very consensual -gang rapes that were light heartedly portrayed ). I watched feeling not entirely a hundred percent at ease with everything, but hey I think that’s pretty fair.
The only female in the play was Vanessa Redgrave at the end, and she was wearing dungarees and flat shoes, with short hair. Make of that what you will.
The youth of now are so exposed to the LGBTQ stuff that it’s all pretty normal to them, with no surprises, which is a lot better than being intolerant to everything ‘ non biblical ‘. Live n let live, right? I think so, though it’s a big contrast to the prevailing attitude in my own upbringing.
Anyway, try this maths thing. It’s amazingly accurate.
It’s a mathematical film test. It’s pretty amazing. Mine turned out to be “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. I was surprised how this worked.
This test will predict which of the 18 films listed below is your favourite. Don’t ask me how, but it really works!
Don’t cheat and look at the film list till you have done the maths!
Pick a number from 1-9.
Multiply by 3.
Multiply by 3 again.
Now add the two digits together to find your predicted favourite film in the list of 18 films below.
- Gone With The Wind
- Beverly Hills Cop
- Star Wars
- Forrest Gump
- The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly
- The Joy of Gay Anal Fisting
- Jurassic Park
- Pirates of the Caribbean
- Raiders Of The Lost Ark
- Home Alone
- Mrs. Doubtfire
- Toy Story
I’m very aware that I’ve not posted anything for a while. That’s because I’ve been holding my breath and steeling myself for the inevitable – that inevitability being that something bad is going to happen. Because that’s what has always happened for almost 6 years now. Positives are always cancelled out by negatives, and yes, I’ve really had positive things happening in my life of late.
I’ve seen my daughters, Lily several times in fact. Lily has been offered a place at Oxford university to study English, which is a massive accomplishment on her part. I can’t imagine where she gets her ability to write from… it’s a mystery to me, that one…… but who cares.
I’ve seen my younger daughter, Amber too. Last night to commemorate Lily’s achievement I suggested we go to the top decks of The Shard, a 1000 feet up, a lofty perch on which to celebrate the pinnacle of Lily’s life thus far. Their mum came too, and fun was had by all of us together, something not that predictable not long ago.
Today I am taking Lily to see a play. Yes, things are so going in a straighter line of late. It’s not been that way for what seems an eternity, and it seems ever so strange for me, with the, as just mentioned, sense that the road I’m on has to suddenly surely zigzag crazily, because it always bloody does.
Through all this improvement, and quite possibly because of her presence, has been Wendy, certainly the most kind and thoughtful person that I’ve ever met.
Isn’t it good that her child and mine will both be at the same Uni next academic year? Who’d have thought it? Maybe they’ll breed?
Best not to think about that.